


Shell

by drowzeee



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Redemption, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowzeee/pseuds/drowzeee
Summary: Team JYR finds Oscar bloody and beaten, unresponsive and barely hanging on to life. It's okay, though, his team is here to save him—along with two unexpected guests. They do what they can to heal him, but physical wounds are the easiest to heal. It's the ones you can't see that are truly dangerous.
Relationships: Jaune Arc & Oscar Pine, Ozpin & Oscar Pine
Comments: 51
Kudos: 185





	1. Flee

**Author's Note:**

> This is originally just a small oneshot but I may expand upon it just a little bit further during the hiatus. Hope you enjoy!

“Oscar? Hey, buddy, you’re safe now. It’s okay, you’re safe.”

The boy does not answer. Not this time, not the past ten or so times, and Jaune doubts he will respond in any following attempts. But he has to talk to him, because what else can he do? Well, he’s pumping as much power into the boy as his semblance will allow, but even that doesn’t feel like enough. The wounds on the outside aren’t healing, meaning most of the damage is internal and mending there first. At least the boy’s aura is finally back. It took ten minutes of nonstop, pure concentration to recover it, even with all of Jaune’s focus, but it’s back. 

It pulsates a deep emerald green around his torn clothes, burnt, bruised, and shredded flesh. His eyes are clouded over, open but heavily under purple eyelids, staring millions of miles into the distance. No one is home right now, not Ozpin or Oscar. Their youngest member gazes into space like a lifeless corpse.

_ No, stop thinking like that.  _ Jaune shakes his head with a shaky exhale. Ren and Yang pause briefly in their patch up work to glance at him. He nods. He’s fine. He has to keep doing this, no matter how long it takes, no matter how tired he feels. It’s nothing compared to what Oscar is going through, what he  _ has already been through.  _ They haven’t even seen what injuries await them under his clothes. They’ve only been aboard the airship for two minutes at most.

Fleeing the hoard.

The Grimm.

Salem, when she eventually notices.

_ Enough distractions.  _ Jaune closes his eyes, evens his breathing, and pushes his semblance harder. This is what he can do right now. Ren and Yang will do what they can with the first aid kit. Oscar just needs to hold on a little longer until they find a safe place. 

“Why isn’t he responding?” Yang whispers, leaning over in her seat. 

“I don’t know,” Jaune says. His voice shakes.

“He’s in shock,” Ren says. “He’s traumatized, repressing everything, including his own conscience.”

“A way to escape the pain…” Yang laments under her breath. “It’s probably for the best.”

No one can argue with that. Just _imagining_ the pained screams Oscar must have let out during the torture… Jaune’s entire body shivers. Now is _not_ the time for Vomit Boy to make a comeback. 

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna take off his shirt now.” Yang gulps. Her hands, one trembling the other steady, hover over the once-cream colored shirt. Now, it is caked with blood, so much that Yang has to tug with force to open it. Jaune tries not to look. He tries not to, so hard. But he does. Everyone does. They all regret it. 

Jaune gags, his gut dropping straight through the plane and into the skies. Yang’s determined eyes, brimmed with tears, finally blink them away and down her cheeks. But she holds back a sound and continues undressing his torso. The shreds of clothes that remain.

His ribs are obviously broken, some bone poking through the torn and burnt skin. Jaune bites his bottom lip and forces his hands to hover over them, shaking fingers, wide eyes. With each shallow breath Oscar takes, the bones visibly shift. If Jaune listens hard enough, he can hear them creak. That, or his imagination is playing a very cruel, sick joke on him. He desperately hopes for the latter.

Green flashes briefly over his ribs before they snap back into place. Jaune almost collapses from the sudden leeching of his own aura. He’s pushing his semblance harder to the limit than he ever has before. It’s Emerald who holds him up, a hand on his chest and back, and keeps him steady. At least his ribs are no longer broken.

“I- I don’t know how much I have left in me,” Jaune gasps, hands falling to rest on the seat Oscar lies on. His own aura flickers, his levels dropping down to red on Yang’s open scroll. Oscar’s remain in the red, the gauge hardly at 2%. He holds the boy’s right hand and squeezes, sweat falling down his temple, and urges his semblance forward again. His other hand is missing two fingers— pinky and ring. The nubs have since been closed, hardly even visible under the blood red fabric of his gloves. They were clean cuts, so at least they weren’t torn off or… some other method of torture. Jaune tries not to think about it, which is a constant theme in this healing process. 

“Pace yourself,” Ren says. “It would be better to have a constant, small stream of supply rather than losing it entirely, even for a short amount of time.”

“Right,” Jaune sighs, toning it back a little bit. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Emerald asks. She’s remained mostly quiet until this part.

“Keep Jaune steady,” Yang says, voice cold as steel. The former street rat nods, mouth shutting. Jaune puts his trust in her and leans more into her weight. She’s helped them come this far, she wouldn’t backstab them now. Not after everything she’s risked.

“Don’t forget his thighs,” Hazel says from the pilot seat. “Vital arteries,” is all the further explanation he gives, busy navigating them through the busy skies. His brow is set heavily over his eyes, dark and unreadable in the window’s reflection. The man had joined them, even after contributing to most of Oscar’s pummeling. Apparently the boy had performed a miracle before his body ran out of fight and convinced the man hellbent on Ozpin’s defeat to not only change sides, but save that very man himself. Well, his soul. Oscar is a child, and Hazel, though he still tortured him, claims to have held back. It was Tyrian who did not.

The first thing Yang had done after Oscar’s aura was back was call Ruby. She hadn’t explained much, too busy juggling the dying boy in their arms and shooting down Grimm, but her sister let them know of their location at the Schnee Manor. A doctor was on site, too, lucky them. 

Something big shifts with a crack and Oscar coughs, hoarse and wet, and blood splatters onto Jaune’s hands. He cringes, hands retracting only an inch before they’re steadied. The red stains his golden armor plating. Just another visual added to the list of nightmare fuel that will definitely be haunting his dreams in the coming year. 

“I’m gonna clean his legs while you focus on his… torso.” Yang waves her hand in the general direction of Oscar’s upper body. Just  _ his ribs  _ doesn’t begin to describe the area of injury. The boy is further undressed, his pants and boots pulled off. Scars, tinted yellow and a sickly green, line his thighs. They are either bruised or infected. Or both. None are actively bleeding,  _ small miracles,  _ but they require attention nonetheless. They’re running out of antiseptic, and they’re out of gauze. The med kit was not equipped for more than one or two injuries. Yang pours water over the wounds, tears off part of her pant leg and dabs it with the antiseptic, and gets to work cleaning the wounds.

“Are we almost there?” Jaune asks, trying to get a view of their surroundings. “The manor wasn’t very far.”

“Yes,” Hazel grumbles. “Flying around swarms of Grimm without rolling isn’t exactly easy, kid.”

Right, right, they’re taking this as steady as possible. 

“Oscar, you need to stay awake for just a little longer,” Ren says. He’s got the boy’s head in his lap, eyes keeping his eyelids open. To the left his head lolls slightly, eyes unseeing and dilated. A concussion for sure. 

“Do you see anything important?” Yang asks. She’s just finished her makeshift wrappings and pulled Oscar’s pants back on. 

“There’s nothing,” Ren murmurs, eyes squinting for something invisible to everyone else. They widen a fraction. “No— there’s something there. It’s faint. I can’t… tell… exactly. Emptiness and  _ content?”  _

“Content?” Jaune echoes with a whisper. 

“He’s safe now,” says Yang right before the ship rocks. “Well,  _ safer.” _

“I can help, if you’ll let me.” Emerald’s hand extends, palm up. “My semblance—I can show him an illusion of something, something that will calm him down. It affects the mind, not the actual senses. He’ll be able to see it clearly.”

The three huntsmen share glances. 

“It  _ would  _ help…” Ren admits.

Yang isn’t so quickly inclined, sighing heavily. 

“Frankly, I don’t trust you yet.”

“I can use it on all of you,” she hurriedly explains. “So you can see what he’s seeing. No tricks. I promise.”

Jaune looks up, catching Yang’s eye. Her lips twist in thought, making a quick decision, then she nods in conceit. 

“If you pull  _ anything,  _ I am throwing your  _ corpse  _ out of this plane.”

“Understood.”

“You’ve got five minutes until touchdown,” Hazel says. Emerald thanks him, takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes. She and Jaune lean against each other, supported by the other’s weight. As the plane’s interior slowly fizzles into something new, the three watch in wonder. It’s a dorm, like the ones in Beacon. No, scratch that, it  _ is  _ a Beacon dorm room. From the looks of it, the one Emerald stayed in during her infiltration. There are undone bed sheets, boots and ammo packs lying on the floor. It looks lived in, like JNPR and RWBY’s rooms but to a lesser degree. There are certainly no bunk beds. Is this Emerald’s closest idea of comfort?

Oscar doesn’t stir, though.

“He never went to Beacon,” Jaune says quietly. The vision flickers briefly before steadying. 

“Shit. R-right,” Emerald stutters, concentrating hard. The setting doesn’t change, but a body appears next to them. It’s Ozpin. Professor Ozpin in his green suit, vest, and turtleneck, complete with a steaming cup of hot coffee. Jaune can smell it, and the steam tickles his nose. 

“He drank hot chocolate, actually,” Yang says. The smell changes immediately. 

“This is why I didn’t hang out with you guys,” Emerald groans, rubbing her temples. “Is it at least working?”

“Y-yes!” Jaune gasps, noticing the way Oscar’s eyes light up. Even if it’s from confusion, it’s the most responsive he’s been since they first found him. He cranes his neck, eyes looking around, actually processing what he’s seeing. Or, rather, what he  _ thinks  _ he’s seeing. He doesn’t speak, but his throat bobs like he’s going to. No sound comes out, though, just a sigh as his head falls back into Ren’s lap.

“You have to stay awake, Oscar.” The three huntsmen would have jumped out of their skin if they weren’t so exhausted. They haven’t heard Ozpin’s voice,  _ his real voice,  _ in so long. Thought they would never hear it again. But, then again, it isn’t his  _ real  _ voice, just an imitation. 

Jaune stares openly at Ozpin for the short time he’s there. His image is blurry at the edges, his face not as clear as the emblem on his shirt or the mug in his hand. It’s surreal, it hurts, but it’s not real. It’s enough to bring some life back into Oscar, though, enough for him to keep his eyes open and semi-aware of their surroundings. 

They land. The dorm room disappears. 

“You’ll be alright,” Ozpin says, and then he’s gone. Emerald exhales, slumping forward with the momentum of the landing ship, and straightens herself with rapid dazed blinking. 

“Think they’ll have spare painkillers?” She chuckles airily, rubbing her eyelids. 

“Yeah. We’ll get you some.” Jaune smiles and nudges her shoulder with his own. A friendly gesture. A silent thanks. 


	2. Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team JOYR reaches the Schnee Manor.

“I’ll carry him in,” Hazel says. He doesn’t wait for an answer before scooping Oscar into his arms. He must weigh nothing to the man. 

“Hey—!” Yang cocks Ember Cecilia, fists readied at her hips. Hazel hardly reacts beyond a raised brow. 

“You can waste your time arguing with me, or you could take us to your friends.”

“Let’s just go, Yang. I’ll watch him,” Jaune says. He’s still got Oscar’s hand in his own— a lifeline. What Hazel’s doing makes sense, even if Jaune doesn’t really approve. He gets it. By carrying Oscar himself, it’s guaranteed Ruby and the others won’t attack him. That, and the sight will take leaps in securing trust between them, eliminating time spent wasted on explaining his change of heart. At least, before it matters. Getting Oscar to their doctor is the number one priority. 

Hazel can explain himself to the others  _ after  _ he finishes this mission. 

There’s a crater in the ground filled with a pool of green liquid just outside the front doors of the mansion. Not much speculation is to be had, for soon after Yang knocks on the doors, Ruby opens them. She hugs Yang immediately, eyes squeezing as tightly as their arms around each other. Then, her eyes open, and she flinches in Yang’s embrace. 

“Hazel?” She gasps. Her hands reach for her weapon until she spots Oscar in his arms and Jaune holding the boy’s hand. 

“We need the doctor,” Ren says. 

“Come inside.” Ruby is quick to accept the circumstances. She tackles this development headstrong like she does everything else. They file in after the other team leader. 

“Oh my god,” Weiss gasps. Her hands fly over her mouth, face twisted in horror. Blake has her weapons drawn but not pointed, ears flat. 

“Is he—“

“He’s alive.” Jaune interrupts Blake before she can ask. “But he’s not stable without my semblance. He needs actual medical attention. I can’t keep this up enough to heal him.”

“We can put him next to Nora,” Weiss says. Ren repeats her name under his breath, eyes wide. “Klein should be able to balance three patients, right?”

Whitley shrugs, hidden partially behind his sister’s frame. His eyes flicker between Hazel and Oscar. 

“Three?” 

“Penny is here, too,” Ruby says. 

“And injured,” adds Blake. “May and Klein are doing what they can but… she’s not… she doesn’t have the same anatomy we do.”

“Alright.” Hazel commands the attention of the room with a single word. “Enough talking. This boy needs medical attention.”

“Follow us,” Weiss says, grabbing Whitley’s wrist. She keeps him by her side, acting as a shield between her brother and the older man. “You, too, Ren.”

Jaune, Ren, Hazel, and Oscar are escorted by the Schnee siblings up the stairs and down several halls. Thunder roars outside. Crimson lightning flashes. Black clouds darken the snowy skies. There is the constant, distant drumming of gunshots. 

The bomb could go off any time now. 

Would they be safe from the blast?

Are they far enough?

There’s very little they can do about it now, not with two of their fighters down and one joining them. 

“You brought  _ another _ patient?” May Marigold asks when they enter Weiss’s room. She’s kneeling over an unconscious Penny on the rug near the main light source. Tools are scattered around her. 

There’s a fire going, dimly lighting the room. If they weren’t in the apocalypse, Jaune might take more time to gush over how cool it is that Weiss has her own personal fireplace. 

“Yes, and he needs immediate attention. Klein?” Weiss leads Hazel to set Oscar on the opposite side of the bed as Nora. She’s wrapped in gauze and lined with scars that look like lightning. Just what on Remnant did she do to get those?

Ren silently rushes to her side, replacing Klein’s spot. Jaune swallows the lump forming in his throat and squeezes Oscar’s hand a little tighter as Klein slides next to him. Hazel retreats to a far corner, arms crossed and closed off. 

“He’s just a young boy,” Klein comments, inspecting Oscar’s face. 

“He’s fifteen,” Jaune whispers. Only fifteen and more injured than all of them combined. 

“Oh, excuse me but—I’ll need my space for this.” Klein dips his head towards Jaune. 

“I— but my semblance will help.”

“Jaune.” Ren looks up at him. He’s holding one of Nora’s hands. “You need to rest. You’re barely hanging on. Let the doctor take over so you can recharge.”

“R-right.” He hesitates, scared of letting go, of dropping the life line. What if Oscar— what if something goes wrong, when he stops amplifying his aura? 

“It’s alright,” Weiss says. She rests a hand on his waist, beginning to lead him around the bed. “If he needs you, Klein will tell you.”

He bites his bottom lip, releasing Oscar’s hand with trembling fingers. The moment he drops the connection, Oscar sighs and falls unconscious, head rolling to the side. 

_ He’s not dead, he’s not dead, he’s not dead.  _

Their scrolls would notify them otherwise. 

For now, Jaune sinks onto his knees by Nora and Ren and puts his face in his hands. His gloved hands covered in Oscar’s blood. No one makes any comments when he begins to cry, finally breaking down from his forced bravado. Weiss just hugs his side as Ren holds his knee. 

The fire crackles. 

May tinkers with her tools. 

Klein undresses and properly cleans Oscar. 

Whitley retrieves a new cold towel every few minutes. 

Jaune cries until his tears have mixed with the blood and stained his cheeks reddish brown. He cries until the tears stop coming. 

Weiss sits on the bed’s edge by Nora’s feet. She beckons Whitley over for one of the towels. Guiding Jaune’s face into different angles, she gently dabs away the blood and muck, and he is helpless to do anything but sit there and let her. 

“Master Whitley, would you run down and grab the sewing kit from the study?”

“Okay,” the boy replies before scuttling out of the room yet again. 

“You’re giving him stitches? With a normal sewing kit?” 

“Forgive me, my snowflake, I only came prepared for the first patient.” Klein places one of the cloth’s aside. It is now red where it was once pure white. 

There are several open, gaping wounds on Oscar’s legs, arms, and torso. He’s dressed down to just his undergarments, the other articles long tossed to the side. He’ll need new combat gear after this. 

If they even make it that far. 

“Those are some… b-big cuts,” Weiss whispers. 

“Most of them are shallow,” Klein says. “Only a few are infected. But some are rather deep, like these punctures. The shape is unique. What could have caused these?”

“A scorpion,” Hazel grumbles. His eyes are closed. They’d almost forgotten his presence, shrouded in shadows like that. 

Images of a sickly, pale, puking purple Qrow assault Jaune’s memory. 

_ “Is he poisoned?”  _ He barely manages to keep from shouting. 

“No.” Hazel opens his eyes. They reflect the fire’s light. “We were specifically instructed not to kill him.”

“And yet you almost did,” Jaune growls. The man merely closes his eyes once more.

Whitley returns with the kit, placing it by Klein’s side before shuffling away from the bed, his skin turning a bit green. Jaune can’t blame the kid. 

Oscar looks horrible, even after all Jaune did with his semblance. His cheeks are pale, completely devoid of that adorable blush that always seemed to dust the boy’s face. Under the cold towel his black eye glistens. A bruised jaw, probably broken or fractured, a misshapen nose, cuts scrapes and bruises. 

_ Not dead. Not dead. Not dead.  _

When Klein begins cleaning the needle, Jaune forces himself to look away. He will definitely puke if he watches that. 

Instead, he looks to Nora, his  _ other  _ fallen teammate. She’ll probably call the scars badass once she’s awake. Always knowing how to make the best of a shitty situation. They do look pretty awesome. Well— they will, once they heal.

Ren has remained relatively calm given the circumstances. A ticking time bomb, Jaune suspects. An explosion in the tundra, an outburst in custody— the inevitable third is coming. They still have a  _ lot  _ to talk about. They’ve hardly brushed over his semblance evolution. 

“You doing okay?” Jaune asks. He leans into the man’s side. Ren accepts the support, even leaning his head on Jaune’s shoulder. That one is new. 

“Not really,” he admits. 

“Same, heh.” He’s never been great at talking about feelings with Ren. Then again, who has? “You, uh… thanks for being honest. I like to know what you’re really feeling.”

“I’m going to try harder.” Ren stares at where his and Nora’s fingers link. “We could die at any second. I don’t want to push you away.”

“I’m right here.” He rests his hand over Ren’s. 

The last time he did this….

No. It won’t be like that time. 

“I love you guys,” he whispers. 

“We love you, too.” Ren bumps his cheek into Jaune’s shoulder. “And I don’t need to use my semblance to see that.”

The door to the room opens yet again, this time with Ruby and Emerald. They’re both carrying glasses with water and a plate of sandwiches. 

“Sorry, Weiss, we raided your kitchen. It’s  _ huge.  _ Couldn’t find anything microwaveable, though, so no hot meal.” Ruby places the glasses on one of Weiss’s miniature tables. Then she glances at their new patient and grimaces. “Um, maybe this isn’t the best place to eat.”

“You should, anyways. Try to give Oscar some water, too.” Emerald holds a glass out to Weiss. “He hasn’t had anything in days.”

“Thank you, Emerald…” Weiss takes the glass apprehensively. The thief shrugs, then brings her plate over to Jaune and Ren, sitting on her knees next to Jaune. 

“Here.” She holds out a sandwich. Jaune accepts it and takes a bite despite the tightness of his jaw and twisting of his stomach. It  _ has  _ been a while since he’s eaten, and his aura won’t regenerate unless he does. Emerald’s nose crinkles.

“What?”

“You’re eating that with your gloves on?” 

“Oh… I guess I am.” He lowers the sandwich from his mouth. “You’re the one who handed it to me.”

She snorts. 

“True.”

Then she gives Ren one, who also accepts without removing his gear. They’re so tired. What’s a little bit of dirt and blood on the side? Okay, that’s gross. Maybe he’ll just eat around the spots his fingers touched. 

“I’ll come check up again soon, okay?” Ruby asks. The room responds with various indications of acknowledgement. The girl leaves them with Emerald. 

“How’s he holding up?” She asks, tilting her head back to look over Nora. 

“Only two more wounds need stitching.” Klein wipes his brow with a spare cloth. “Who applied the bandages to his neck? They need to be replaced with clean ones.”

“Oh, he’s always had those,” Jaune says. “Um… we didn’t check for any injuries there. He’s always been protective of that area.”

Klein threads his needle once more, mustache twitching disapprovingly. 

“It will need to be addressed, regardless.”

“Yeah…” Jaune sighs. Hopefully Oscar will understand. “Maybe it’s best to do it while he’s still asleep.”

In the meantime, Klein continues stitching. Jaune and Ren eat and drink. May works in silence. There is a blanket of hush covering the room. It’s not exactly relaxation, as everyone is hyper aware of the war raging below, but it’s the closest they’ve had to a peaceful moment in some time. 

Jaune watches Emerald from the corner of his vision. She stares longingly out the window, leaned back against the bed, her bright red eyes troubled. It’s only now that he realizes something is amiss. 

“Where’s Mercury?” He asks quietly.

Emerald’s gaze falls to the floor tiles. 

“Salem sent him to Vacuo, with Tyrian.”

“So he’s… still—?”

“On her side?” She shrugs, holding her arms close to her chest. “Not by choice. He didn’t  _ want _ to be there any more than I did, despite how much he bragged about it. If you guys had shown up sooner I think… I think he would have come with us. I want to believe he would have.”

“You two were actually friends, right?”

“Yeah.” She rests her chin on her crossed arms. “We are.”

“I don’t know how you got roped into all of this and… and honestly I don’t completely forgive you for Beacon. I don’t know if I can. But the fact that you’re here now says a lot. Thank you.”

“Mm…” She turns her head away. Jaune gives her some space. Emerald is still processing everything, stuck in a room with people who’d just been her enemies just hours ago. He can’t blame her for being overwhelmed. 

“If you would like to resume your healing, young man, I’ve completed the vital work.”

Finally, a way to be helpful again.

Jaune situates himself beside Klein and hovers his hands over Oscar. He looks thin, fragile. Would he need a blood transfusion? Is that even possible in their situation?

“Where should I focus it?”

“Start with his legs. His left shin is shattered. Work up slowly.”

“Got it.”

As Jaune pumps his semblance into Oscar’s aura, Klein works on replacing Oscar’s neck wrappings. Out of consideration of the boy’s privacy, Jaune doesn’t look, but from the low whistle sound Klein makes, he can assume it’s not pretty. Once he’s done, he sits back with a heavy exhale and watches Jaune. The room’s walls reflect a mix of cream and green light, like the surface of ocean waves.

“The young man would have needed surgery if not for your semblance.” Klein begins gathering the bloodied towels and deposits them into an empty bin. “Likely wouldn’t have been able to walk again, seeing as we have no way of getting him that.”

“I’ve never been more thankful for my semblance. Well, besides one other time.”

“He saved my life once before, too, Klein.” Weiss walks over to help Klein clean.

“Is that right?” The doctor chimes. He regards Jaune with a fond twinkle in his blue eyes. Weiss, Whitley, and Klein take their leave to rid the room of the bloody supplies. Jaune scoots closer to Oscar’s head, hands over his chest. Some wounds have been there for so long, it’s taking more power to heal them. The moment he’s healed up enough, Jaune is going to wrap Oscar in the tightest hug and not let go for an hour at the minimum. Nora will definitely cling onto the boy for an entire day once she learns what happened to him. She’s lucky she wasn’t conscious to witness him before his treatment. 

When he reaches Oscar’s collarbone, he pauses for just a moment. 

“Hey, Ren, is there a tiny blanket over there anywhere? Something light?”

“I could remove one of the pillowcases.”

“Please.”

Ren tosses him an empty pillowcase. He drapes it over Oscar’s bare chest. They’ve seen the boy half naked before, but that was something that came with the trust and comfort of living in a dorm room together for weeks. Jaune knows Oscar wouldn’t want to have his upper body exposed more than necessary, especially with stranger company. He resumes the amplification.

The Schneeblings and Klein return with fresh supplies for later dressings and a set of spare clothes. They’re soft and white with pale blue accents, definitely Whitley’s.

“They’ll be big on him.” The pale boy places the clothes next to Oscar’s legs.

“You’re a twig, Whitley. He’ll be fine.”

“I meant my  _ height,  _ obviously.”

“I’m just teasing you!” Weiss flicks his bicep. “Thank you for sharing.”

“Alright, enough thanking me for being a decent human being. I’m starting to feel offended.”

Jaune chuckles. With one last swipe of his hand and push of his aura, he heals Oscar’s swollen black eye. He’s back in the red in terms of aura himself, but he’ll recharge in no time now that he’s not frozen, starving, or dehydrated. All that matters is that Oscar is relatively healed. His semblance can do a lot, but it can’t do everything. Oscar’s own body and aura will need to heal itself in time with the boost it's been given. 

The boy stirs, his eyes blinking rapidly. Jaune removes the damp cloth and wipes his bangs from his forehead. He leans forward, searching Oscar’s eyes for awareness. They’re open, barely, and his pupils are blown. He doesn’t follow the movement of Jaune’s finger completely, but does seem to register that something is moving in front of him. He turns his head to Jaune, expression blank.

“Hey, bud,” he whispers. His fingers trail down Oscar’s cheek, delicate as a drifting feather.

Oscar does not respond, only blinking slowly before continuing to stare through Jaune. The Arc holds back another bout of tears, his smile indecipherable from a grimace.

Lightning cracks outside, lighting up the room for just a moment.

Oscar is alive. 

He’s healing. 

He’s going to be okay.

  
  
  


Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the positive reception on the first chapter! I got a bit carried away so this second part is a bit longer... hope you enjoyed it! Might do a chapter three taking place after the Atlas arc. It'll be extremely vague but I want to focus more on a conscious Oscar LOL.


	3. Onward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacuo needs them, now.

It isn’t until the third hour of the flight that Oscar’s silence becomes a bigger concern. Among the ruckus of war and battling and running and fighting, little thought was to be had in regards to the farm boy’s silence. 

_ He’s just tired.  _

_ His throat must be sore from screaming.  _

_ Maybe it still hurts to breathe so he isn’t pushing himself.  _

Those were all understandable assumptions to be made. But this is something else. Oscar won’t just not respond verbally, he hardly responds  _ at all.  _

“I never watched,” Emerald had said at some point. “But when Tyrian was with him, his screams were loud enough to be heard from down the hall.”

Time feels unreal. 

Vacuo is their next destination. They don’t have a choice but to go. There’s nowhere else. 

The airship is starting to feel stuffy now that they’re out of the tundra. The heat has been dialed down right into air conditioning. The girls have shed their jackets, and Jaune the armor around his arms. Oscar sits curled up by the window, head against the glass, and stares at the empty sky. Long Memory rests on his lap secure between thigh and stomach. 

Jaune leans back, trying to get a bit more comfortable. He’s the tallest one here after Hazel. Gods, that man’s legs must be cramped as hell by now. Is that something his semblance blocks out? He’s been hunched over in the pilot’s seat this entire time, Emerald his copilot. Her feet are kicked up onto the ‘dashboard.’ Atlas airships are so weird. Small, too. 

“Passing out some snacks. Anyone hungry?” Ruby waves a bag of chips. They’d scavenged all they could before taking flight. Tons of cans and bags. Even more water bottles. 

There are a few hands raised. Nora and Ren share a bag of pretzels. Emerald takes a water for Hazel. Jaune accepts a bag of lightly salted plain chips. Both he and Oscar get motion sickness in planes, so they’ve been equipped with their own bottles of water beforehand. Nothing heavy to eat, either. 

“You want any?” Jaune asks. Oscar doesn’t answer, nor show any sign that he’s heard Jaune. Slowly, he rests a finger on Oscar’s elbow. Even that light touch is enough to cause the boy to flinch and curl further in on himself, hands burying into his hair. He turns his back to Jaune completely.

Okay, note to future self: don’t touch Oscar for his attention.

Many eyes are on him, having watched the exchange. Jaune sags further into the seat, head rolling back. He’s lost his appetite. Ruby puts the chips away and the airship remains hushed aside from the occasional whisper. 

  
  


They land in Argus first. Vacuo is a long ways away and they’re going to need a better air ship if they plan on making that trip. Luckily, Ruby is a miracle worker, and managed to not only win the heart of Caroline Cordovin before they left last time, but inspire the Atlas Military base settled on the coast with her speech. 

They’re welcomed back with respect and many questions. While team RWBY handles the bargaining and news breaking, Jaune leads his team to his sister’s house once again. This time harboring two new guests. They’ll only stay for one night. Time is of the essence. 

Saphron is the only one home when they knock on the doors. She’s wrapped around Jaune before he can get a ‘hello’ out. The rest of the team is welcomed inside in a hurry. Jaune keeps the explanation brief. There’s much preparing to be done for this trip, he’d rather not waste a single moment. 

“Weren’t they wanted? For  _ murder?”  _ Saphron whispers. Hazel stands in a corner of the living room silently, as he does, with Emerald glued to his side awkwardly. 

“We’re all criminals now, technically.” He shrugs. “It’s a long story.”

Saphron accepts the abridged version well enough. Ruby’s message to the world laid the foundation, now they just needed to make use of it. 

Saphron accompanies them to the city for their shopping trip. Jaune would have liked to leave her with Oscar, but the boy desperately needs a new pair of combat gear, preferably suited for the desert, so he comes with, too. 

He follows the herd like an injured deer, slow and limping in the back. Long Memory can only help him so much walking uphill. They try to take the trolley as much as possible for his sake. 

They make use of the money they earned doing huntsman work in Solitas. 

Food that won’t spoil. 

Tons of water. 

Medical supplies. 

New clothes. 

They shop well into the night, until the stars are twinkling and arms are full. Team RWBY is back at the house with Terra and Adrian by the end of their shopping trip. 

“Did you get it?” Nora asks as they walk up the front steps. 

“Yeah.” Ruby opens the door for them. She’s smiling, but she’s tired. “Cordovin is lending us a ship and two trained pilots. They’ll get us to Vacuo safely.”

That news is enough call for celebration. And by celebrating, they collapse on the couches in the main room while the Cotta’s make dinner. They’re still sore from Atlas, some more than others. Maybe a several hour flight won’t be too bad. It’ll be boring, but Jaune’s come to really appreciate boring now that it’s become a rarity. 

While no one trusts Hazel to be alone with anyone, especially civilians, Emerald assures them that he isn’t one for senseless violence despite all evidence pointing otherwise. He and Ren help prepare dinner. 

“Does anyone wanna massage my back?” Nora groans. She’s lower on the scale of who’s recovered, just right above Oscar. 

“I know how,” Emerald says. “Unless you don’t want me to. I'd understand.”

“Get over here, sister!” Nora is already pulling off her shirt. Blake and Yang move to the floor to allow the redhead to lie on her stomach atop the couch. Emerald straddles her waist and begins massaging. 

“I’m almost jealous,” Yang sighs. 

“I’ll give you a massage later.” Blake rests a hand on her thigh. Yang blushes with a small ‘okay’ muttered. 

As the girls begin to chatter, Jaune once again takes note of his younger companion’s state. Oscar sits next to him, hands in his lap, staring at a spot on the floor. 

“Do you need anything?” He keeps his volume low. 

Oscar’s head tilts an inch towards him, barely an acknowledgement, but the lips remain sealed. If Jaune hadn’t seen it for himself while hand feeding him in the Schnee Manor, he’d suspect his tongue was cut off, too. But no, thankfully that is one limb not missing. 

His new gloves are tailored in a way that they cover the nubs on his left hand, but leave his other fingers and palm uncovered. Fully closed gloves in the desert would overheat him in no time. 

Weiss has taken to sewing ice and wind dust into their new outfits in their downtime. Steady hands weaving tiny crystals and capsules through fabric. No doubt learnt from Klein. Because their clothes need to cover their skin and protect them from the sun, they’re light in weight and the material is built to cool, but Weiss insisted on helping how she could. Dust is a luxury in Vacuo, and they’ve made sure to stock up on that, too. 

Jaune’s never been a big fan of summer time. At least nights in the desert are supposed to be cold. 

Dinner is served. A big feast that feels both well earned yet entirely undeserved. Most of them eat at the table. Hazel, Emerald, Weiss, and Jaune remain on the couches. 

The two girls discuss fashion, like what styles are in, what brand has the most sturdy but flexible combat jackets, and so on. Jaune is foreign to all of it (he wore a hoodie and jeans for over a year, for crying out loud), but he tries to engage in the conversation simply because he doesn’t want to talk to Hazel. The man clearly feels the same, because he eats quickly and leans back with bulging arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are shut, like he’s meditating. Or just listening. 

It’s super intimidating, like he’s a wise old warrior who only offers his input when necessary. The thought of him being an instructor can be entertained if Jaune imagines hard enough. He could definitely teach them all a trick or two on dust manipulation. Only Weiss and Blake have proficiency with that style of fighting, but not nearly to the degree of Hazel. 

Without Ozpin or Qrow, Hazel is kind of their new mentor figure, isn’t he? If Jaune travelled back in time to tell himself that, he would have laughed until his head fell off. 

It doesn’t take long for the kids to shovel down dinner and grow tired. After cleaning downstairs, they go upstairs to the guest rooms they’d stayed in last time. JNPR in one, RWBY in the other. Emerald and Hazel are left to sleep on the couch. 

“Should we take shifts keeping watch over them?” Blake asks. 

“Would they really attack us after coming this far?” Weiss speculates. 

“I think we should put our trust in them.” Ruby runs her hands over her tattered cape. “We all saw how not putting our trust in someone worked out last time.”

_ Ironwood… _

“And how trusting the good in someone  _ did  _ work out.”

_ The Happy Huntresses.  _

“Oscar trusted them, so we should, too.” Jaune nods. They all glance at the boy on the bed outside of their team huddle. “Speaking of…”

They shuffle out of the room, closing the door behind them, leaving him alone. Nora runs a hand over her face. 

“He’s not okay. Should we really be taking him to Vacuo?” 

“We have to. We can’t split up, not again.” 

“We could leave him here with your sister?” She shrugs. 

“And leave him vulnerable to Salem? What if she comes for him again? We need to be there to protect him,” Blake says. 

“Yeah, because we did such a great job last time.” Yang hugs herself, eyes red. Blake pulls her closer, ears swiveled back. 

“We’ll protect him—  _ together _ ,” she whispers. That manages to bring the purple back. 

“You can see emotions now, right Ren?” Ruby asks. “What do you see, when you look at Oscar?”

The man rubs his elbows, eyes searching the ceiling. 

“A lot. It’s hard to put it into words. I think I see Ozpin’s emotions, too. It’s nothing good.” His bangs fall over his eyes. “There is a storm circling him. I can hardly see his body beyond it when I activate my semblance.”

“So what do we do?” Asks Weiss. 

“I don’t think we have a choice but to bring him,” Ruby says. 

“No, I know  _ that,”  _ Weiss sighs under a pinch of her nose. “But what do we do about his state?”

No one has a comment. They all turn to Jaune. Oh, Gods. 

“I— maybe Headmaster Theodore will know. He was friends with Ozpin. I’ll continue to keep a close eye on him for now, though.”

“Good idea,” Yang says. He nods.

_ Thank you, Yang. _

“Hazel might know something, too,” he admits, rubbing his neck. “The guy’s pretty experienced. Seems wise. I can talk to him if no one else wants to?”

“You’re our selfless leader for a reason, Jaune.” Nora grins brighter than the hallway lights. He chuckles, which morphs into a yawn. 

They turn in shortly after exchanging goodnight wishes. 

Oscar and Nora are given the bed. She does not latch onto him like a koala as she usually does. He sleeps on the very edge of the bed, as far from her as possible. She tries not to feel hurt, but Jaune can tell it takes a toll on her psyche. He and Ren both give her a pick-me-up kiss on the cheek after tucking her in. She’s snoring happily in no time. 

The two men lie on the floor. Spare blankets and pillows are shared between them. Jaune hugs Ren close to his chest, nose buried in his flower scented hair. Ren rests a hand over Jaune’s and they fall into an exhausted slumber. 

It’s going to be their last day with cold freely running water, so everyone takes advantage of the two showers in the Terra-Cotta household. Even Hazel. 

It takes some work, but Jaune manages to convince Oscar into letting him help bathe the boy. Up to this point, he’s only been sponge bathed once, and he smells— like blood, grime, and a teenage boy. His bandages also need to be replaced. It’ll be another few days before the stitches come out. 

Once he’s got Oscar down to his briefs, he sets up a stool in the shower and helps the boy onto it. It’s unorthodox, but the situation itself is far from normal. Jaune only dresses down to a spare t-shirt and boxers. The both of them being naked would be uncomfortable, and he’s willing to make the sacrifice of sticky wet clothes if it means helping Oscar. 

Once the shower is running, the water just a tad below warm, refreshing, he takes the shower head and gets to work. The tiles beneath them turn dark as Jaune sprays Oscar down. 

“Any head injuries I should worry about?”

A head shake. 

Easy parts first. Shampoo and conditioner. Oscar flinches away from Jaune’s fingers more than once, but eventually the touch becomes common enough that he finally relaxes. 

_ Giving up _ might be a better description, actually. 

He sits like a doll, still and lifeless, as Jaune lightly scrubs his head and runs fingers through his hair. There are parts matted with dried blood. Knots and clumps. The process is complicated; Jaune needs to be delicate so not as to hurt or spook Oscar, but they can’t spend hours in here, either. 

Cleaning his body is, predictably, more difficult. Jaune decides to stand in front of Oscar for this so the boy can see his every move. He doesn’t react at first, not even bothering to cover his chest. But Jaune hasn’t tried to touch him yet, so…

He douses a washcloth in body lotion. It’s apple scented. He’s going to scrub the skin and steer clear of any cuts. After explaining as much to Oscar, he reaches for the boy’s good hand. Start small. 

Sailing smoothly so far. Oscar allows him to hold his hand with no resistance. Jaune begins with his fingernails, making sure to get under them. Up and onwards he travels, from wrist to elbow to armpit and shoulder. 

“Next arm,” he announces. He starts at the top this time. The closer he gets to the hand, though, the more Oscar begins squirming on his seat. 

“If you want me to stop, tap twice. If you just need me to slow down, tap three times. Got it?”

Oscar lifts his arm slightly. Good enough. 

He repeats the process on the left hand’s remaining fingernails. The nubs of his other two fingers look too delicate to touch, so he doesn’t. They should be wrapped up, too, after this. He cleans the webbing between them instead. 

Next is his chest. Klein told them that there were no new injuries on Oscar’s throat, just old scars that have long since healed. He does not touch those bandages. 

Cleaning Oscar’s chest is… intimate. Neither of them have had surgery. Probably why Oscar is so comfortable letting Jaune do this. He can’t imagine anyone else in his place right now. Maybe Nora.  _ Maybe.  _

Oscar only asks him to slow down twice before he’s finished with the torso. Mostly, he just dissociates. 

Jaune is only halfway through cleaning his right thigh when Oscar stops him for a fourth time. This is taking way too long. The water has turned cold. 

“Oscar, we need to get through this.” He sighs, then turns the shower head off. “I’ll be fast, okay? Then you can get dressed and lie down if you want. I promise to be careful.”

A hesitant nod is his only answer. The boy has begun shivering. Jaune is too focused on the task at hand to care much about his own dripping clothes. But he wouldn’t want Oscar to catch a cold on top of everything, so he works fast. Thighs, shins, and feet. A quick scrub as Oscar clenches his jaw and watches every movement with glassy eyes. 

“Done.” Jaune hangs the wet cloth and grabs a dry one. Oscar leans into the fluffy towel as Jaune pats him down, gently ruffling his hair and wrapping it around his shoulders.

“I’ll change in here, you change by the sink?”

Once he’s helped Oscar out of the shower, he grabs his dry clothes and shuts the curtain, then pulls on his new outfit. His wet clothes are disregarded in the laundry bin. Saphron will understand. Oscar does the same with his soaked briefs. 

No combat gear yet; Oscar’s dressed in a light and comfortable fit for the flight. Jaune combs his dark hair back and out of his face. Really hoping for at least a tiny smile, he’s disappointed to find that same vacant stare looking back at him. He tucks a strand behind Oscar’s ear and smiles for him instead. 

Oscar tips forward, head plonking against Jaune’s chest. Surprised, the leader is slow to rest his hands on the boy’s back. This is a hug, he realizes. Half of one. Initiated by Oscar. He rubs circles into his shoulder pads as the boy rests his face in his abdomen. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t hug back. He only rests against Jaune. 

_ I really would die for you,  _ Jaune thinks, catching a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror past foggy glass. Scratch that, past foggy  _ tears.  _

“Come on, we have breakfast to eat before Nora does. I’ll redress your wounds while you do.”

With Ren’s help, Oscar’s bandages are changed on the couch. He eats slowly, meticulous in his bites of eggs and toast. 

They finish packing. 

Saphron escorts them to the military base where a ship is readied for them. Cordovin is awaiting their arrival by the front gates. 

“Welcome, Huntsmen and Huntresses.” She salutes. Seems she’s rekindled her huntsman spirit since they’ve been gone. Ruby must have shaken her off her soap box. 

Saying goodbye is never easy, but it’s slightly easier this time now that they’re flying legally. 

“Stay safe. Take care of our new little brother,” Saphron whispers into his ear as they hug once more. 

“I will,” he promises. 

Oscar stares ahead at the blue ocean and skies, bangs swaying in the salty sea breeze. Does he know how dearly he’s loved by Jaune? By his friends? They performed a suicide mission to get him back, and they’d do it one million more times with no hesitation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support in this little fic! I'm going to end it here because I think the story has reached a natural open ending conclusion and I don't want to drag it out any more than necessary. This was supposed to just be one chapter, after all, LOL!   
> Hope you enjoyed!!!


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